telmarine occupied narnia / year 2298

word count: 1,574

drin & cas requested by agustina

xXx

Firelight flickered over the flat, cold stone of the little-used Telmarine castle common room where Prince Caspian lay flat on his back, absently stroking the fur of an old yellow tomcat as it groomed itself in the hearth's warmth and payed him no mind.

"You would tell me, wouldn't you?" he murmured, lolling his head to the side. "If you knew anything about Christmas?"

The cat said nothing.

As usual.

"We have winter festivities, you know, but nothing like the Old Narnians. Cornelius tells me what it used to be like, sometimes, but he wasn't there any more than I was… and, oh, I just wish I knew."

The cat looked up from licking its paw and stared blankly into the fire, giving no indication in the slightest that it had even heard him.

Caspian sighed. "I suppose you are only a dumb beast, after all." He scratched the fur under its neck. "You probably know less about Christmas than I do."

He didn't hear the footsteps clicking down the hall outside the open door until it was too late.

"What's Christmas?"

He bolted upright as Drinian stepped into the room, the older boy's broad shoulders already beginning to resemble the long line of proud nobility he descended from, and Caspian scrambled hurriedly to his feet.

"What are you doing here?"

Drinian motioned offhandedly back into the hall toward the rest of the castle. "Your uncle is looking for you."

Caspian paled. "Why?"

"Because it's the middle of the night, and you're meant to be in bed…?"

"Oh." He slumped with a sigh.

"What's Christmas?" the boy repeated, and Caspian stiffened.

"Nothing, nothing, it's not important, just— pretend you never heard anything, okay? It's just stupid, it doesn't mean anything, I was only—"

"Well now you have to tell me." Drinian crossed his arms.

Caspian stammered, frozen, shaking his head. "I— I can't, please, Drin, don't make me—"

"Hey." The boy's shoulders softened and he stepped further into the room, dark brows knitting in confusion as his brown skin and dark glossy Telmarine hair flickered in the orange fire glow. "What on earth are you so worked up about? It was just a question."

"I know, it's just— I'll be in such a lot of trouble, and I don't know how to— you can't speak of this to anyone, Drin, please, don't tell Miraz."

"Tell him what?"

"About the old stories," blurted Caspian, and instantly internally kicked himself.

"The old… what? Which stories? Why would you be in trouble?"

"Because…" Caspian breathed a deep, tremulous sigh. "I don't know. I'm not supposed to talk about them. He was so cross last time, and I was only a kid then."

Drinian blinked, clearly still uncomprehending.

"The legends," clarified Caspian hesitantly. "About Old Narnia? Please don't say anything, I could be—"

"I'm not going to say anything, okay? I'm not! And why were you talking to a cat?" he asked as his eyes fell to the scraggly creature.

"That's— I… it's…"

"Okay, nevermind that for now, start with Christmas."

Caspian swallowed hard. He sank tremulously back down to the ground in spite of the plentiful seating around the hearth, and drew his knees up to his chest as Drinian crossed the room and lowered himself down beside the Prince.

Dark eyes watched him as sharply as they ever had, the boy who fit the model of Telmarine so much better than Caspian ever would, the boy Miraz so often pointed to when he snapped his royal nephew's head out of the clouds and told him to focus on training, on studies, all those practical, important things he could never seem to get right while all the men said "ah that young Drinian, he'll do well for himself," and Caspian avoided his uncle's eyes in the meeting hall.

Now he scrambled for words under the scrutiny of brown eyes that saw so easily though politics, through law, through everything so far above the fairy stories Caspian clung to that he felt almost more foolish now than he would have explaining it to Miraz.

"It used to be a holiday, in Old Narnia—before our ancestors came, I mean—and an old man named Father Christmas delivered gifts to everyone in the country once a year. I know, it sounds silly," he hurried before the older boy could interject, "I was only thinking about it because… well, it would have been tomorrow, if anyone still celebrated, but I guess Father Christmas hasn't come since we conquered all the real Narnians and they— I mean…"

Drinian stared in pure bewilderment. "Where did you hear all that?"

"I— I can't say, I'm sorry, I shouldn't even be talking about it, ugh." He rubbed his eyes in frustration. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut? What would he do if Miraz sent Cornelius away, too?

"Are you going to cry?"

"No." Caspian straightened instantly and hoped his eyes weren't shining.

Drinian sighed. "Caspian, I swear I won't tell anyone. And that goes for any secret, ever, not just… legends, or whatever it is you're on about."

Caspian glanced up into the boy's eyes with earnest surprise. "Really?"

"Well, it wouldn't be very decent of me, would it? What do you take me for?"

Caspian pursed his lips and looked down again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to sound like that… I just… I've never told anyone before… and… I guess I don't know how to do it."

Drinian watched him for several moments in uncertain silence before nodding to the cat. "Do you always talk to animals?"

"I… uh…"

"Is that why you only have one friend?"

"Well I— wait, I have a friend?"

"Me, obviously!"

"Oh. I wasn't sure—" He shook his head before he said something even more inadvertently insulting. Maybe this was why he only had one friend. But something fluttered inside him at the thought, almost lightheaded at the use of the word. Friend. "Uhm. Oh, yeah. Uhh… the cat… well, in Old Narnia the animals could talk… so I just sort of… I don't know."

"They could talk?"

"Yeah, lots of them, horses and dogs and cats and even mice. I like to think maybe some of them are still around, pretending to be normal animals, or… something."

Drinian watched him. "You really believe stuff like that?"

Caspian shrugged. "I suppose so. I want it to be true, anyway."

Drinian nodded thoughtfully. "And what about Christmas?"

"What?"

"What does a person do on Christmas? Besides taking presents from whatever-his-name-was?"

"Oh, well, the creatures gave gifts to each other, too. And there were feasts and songs and all sorts of things, but I'm afraid I don't know as much as I want to. He certainly isn't helping, at any rate." He nodded to the cat.

Drinian shot him a dry look of amusement. "I don't think you'll be getting much information out of him, Cas."

Caspian sighed. "I know."

For several moments they sat in silence, the soft crackle of the fire filling the room as the old cat groomed itself, undisturbed, and Caspian almost didn't dare to glance at the boy beside him, shy now from how much he'd spilled at once.

At last, Drinian spoke again. "You like stars, right?"

Caspian blinked. "Yeah, why?"

"I've got my grandfather's old starfinder I don't use, if you want it. For Christmas, I mean."

"What—" Caspian's heart skipped a beat. "Drin, really?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"I— well, I— I— what shall I give you, then?"

Drinian shrugged. "Don't bother."

"I will bother, thank you very much, I've only got one friend!"

Drinian smirked, and his dark eyes twinkled in the firelight. "You can give me another story, then, since you seem to have so many I've never heard."

Caspian grinned back before he could help himself. "You really promise you won't tell anyone? You really really promise?"

"I've already given you my word! Does my honor mean nothing to you?"

Caspian cocked his head in mock consideration. "Well…"

Drinian shoved him, and a split second later Caspian slammed hard onto his back as the boy's weight pinned him full force like a blanket of smothering warmth.

"Oof— m'sorry— get— off—"

Something hissed and Drinian jerked back up, alleviating the pressure in Caspian's chest as he stared dumbstruck at the cat.

"What?" coughed Caspian, glancing between the squash-yellow eyes of the tom and Drinian's stunned expression.

"That thing just scratched me."

Caspian blinked and looked back at the cat, though it only licked its paw again, just as disinterested as ever. "Thanks…?" he ventured tentatively.

It gave a disgruntled meow, shook itself, and stalked away.

Drinian looked back down. "Did you put it up to that?"

And before he could even fully take in the look of vague, lingering shock on his friend's face, Caspian burst out laughing.

"Hey!" Drinian suppressed a grin even through his sincerity. "It can't really talk, right? Right?"

Caspian fended off another smothering attack and his laughter only redoubled until he could hardly breathe, begging for his life under Drinian's crushing weight as the other boy caught the infectious giggles, too.

And though Prince Caspian would not know a true Narnian Christmas until many years afterward, the secret gift-giving tradition kept between them from that day forward became the most sacred of all his childhood; as did the friendship that bloomed out of it, which would last until the end of his days.